


Sherlock's Web

by charlottesweb



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 17:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5300657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottesweb/pseuds/charlottesweb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Sherlock and John Story based on Charlotte's Web</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was spring and the farm was full of the sounds of young pigs, chicks, ducks and other animals. Molly Hooper’s father had noted that there was a litter of pigs born the night before. He sighed, for one of them was a runt. The little pig would have to be killed.  Molly went about her chores and then sat down at the table to eat. Mrs. Hooper smiled at her daughter’s enthusiasm as she attacked a plate of pancakes.

“Good morning, Mother,” Molly said in between mouthfuls.

Mrs. Hooper laughed. “Molly, slow down. Those pancakes don’t have wings.”

Molly smiled. “Where’s Pa?”

Mrs. Hooper turned away from the stove. “There was a litter of pigs born last night. One of them was a runt and your father has to do away with it.”

Molly jumped up. “What oh no,” she screamed as she ran outside.

Mr. Hooper was just heading into the smokehouse with an axe in his hand. “Wait, stop,” Molly screamed.

Mr. Hooper stopped and turned to look at his daughter’s tear stained face. “Molly, the little pig is going to die. You know what life on a farm is like.”

Molly cried harder. “Pa, I can take care of him. Please let me try.”

Mr. Hooper sighed. “Fine, he’s all yours.”

Molly held out her hands. “Thank you Pa. I am going to call him John.” She said as she held the little piglet close.

Molly took care of little John until one day he was a full grown pig. “It’s time for him to go,” Mr. Hooper thought as he observed the size of the pig. So, the next day John was sold to Mr. Zuckerman’s farm down the street. John squealed all the way. The sound broke Molly’s heart.

So, John was settled into his new home. His heart ached for his old home with Molly. “I’ll never find a friend. I’m so alone. Nothing ever happens to me,” John cried aloud as wept into a pile of straw.

Several of the other animals told John to shut up. But John was so lonely that he couldn’t stop crying. Then a voice spoke to him from out of the darkness.

“John, stop crying. I’ll be your friend,” a beautiful silken voice whispered.

John looked around him. “Where are you?” He asked aloud.

“Up here,” the voice said.

John looked up and saw a beautiful grey spider, her large greenish eyes held John transfixed. “My name is Sherlock and I’ll be your friend.”

John openly gapped at the spider. She was magnificent and John fell in love with Sherlock the instant she dropped into view.

“What are you?” John asked as Sherlock landed on his snout.

“I’m a spider, an arachnid.”  Sherlock announced with pride.

John ooed and awed as Sherlock performed acrobatic motions to and from her web. “Are all spiders as pretty as you?” John asked.

“Yes,” Sherlock replied as he landed once again on John’s snout.

“Now I have a friend for life,” John said as he did a backflip.

A male sheep in the next pen laughed, “John, you aren’t going live long. You’ll be killed soon for bacon.”

“What?” John squealed. “Is it true?”

One of the geese answered. “Yes, it’s true.”

John shook his head and began to pace. “I don’t want to die.”

Sherlock crawled up into her web. Then she looked down at John and said, “Don’t worry, John I’ll save you. No matter what it takes I will save you.”

 

 


	2. I.O.Y

“Mycroft, Mycroft, I know you can hear me,” Sherlock said as she used a tendril of her web to slide down on.

Mycroft was a large black rat that frequented the stables. He glared up at Sherlock. “What do you want?” He snapped.

“I require your assistance,” Sherlock said as she perched herself on John’s feeding trough. Without waiting for an answer she continued on. “I need you to find me some clippings from magazines, newspapers, anything you can dig up that will put John in a good light.”

Mycroft laughed. “Why should I care if he gets turned into bacon?”

Sherlock frowned as she pointed one of her legs at Mycroft. “You’ll care when John’s trough is empty. You’ll starve, you selfish rat.”

Mycroft stopped grooming his coat long enough to let Sherlock’s words sink in, then he sighed. “Fine, have it your way, Sherlock. I’m leaving right now.”

Sherlock then swung over to where John lay shivering in the corner of his pen. “Cheer up, John. I will save you.”

Tears rolled down John’s cheeks and over his snout, making him sneeze. “I hope so Sherlock. I’m scared.”

Sherlock began to hum and then said, “Take a nap, John, everything will be fine.”

John looked up at Sherlock. “Thank you.”

A few hours later Mycroft dropped off a few scraps of paper. After looking through several of the scraps Sherlock found what she was looking for. “Perfect,” she said as she scrambled up the side of a beam to her web.

The next morning when John awoke he immediately looked up at Sherlock’s web and gasped, for the web had writing in its center. It read: “Wise Pig.”

“Sherlock,” John exclaimed. “Sherlock.”

Sherlock peeked out from behind the web, obviously too tired to swing down. “Yes, John?”

“Did you spin that message for me?” John asked in wonder.

“Yes,” Sherlock whispered.

John looked up at Sherlock’s limp body and asked, “Are you alright, Sherlock?”

“Yes, John I just need to rest. Now sit underneath my web for I can see the farm hand coming with your breakfast now.” Sherlock said as he scurried out of view.

John spared one more backward glance at Sherlock and then did as she said. When the farm hand saw the message in the web he dropped John’s feed and ran into the house. Soon everyone in the household came to see the web. Reporters were called. John was famous. Crowds came from far and near to see the ‘wise pig.’ John was given extra rations and the barnyard hummed with happiness.

Moriarty the butcher walked by John’s pen and snarled with loathing. “I’ll never get to butcher that pig at this rate. I hate that pig,” Moriarty whispered as he glared over at the web and the mob of photographers that swarmed in to take John’s picture. Moriarty then looked up at the web and its message. “But I hate that spider worst of all. How dare it deprive me of a kill. I love my job and how many people can say that?” He thought as he sought to catch sight of the spider that had ruined his good time.

While everyone focused their attention on John, Moriarty went around the side of the pen until he was perpendicular with Sherlock’s web. He then blew on the web until Sherlock crawled around the corner. Moriarty knew it would cause too much a ruckus if he jumped over the fence and smashed the spider so he fixed his brown eyes onto the spider and mouthed the words. “I owe you.”

 

 

 

 


	3. The Press Always Turns

The ruckus had died down. The message in Sherlock’s web had been torn by the unfortunate bugs that had become tangled in the soft, silver threads of her masterpiece. The crowds had dispersed and John being the naïve creature that he was felt that the public’s adulation would last forever. But John was to be taught a valuable lesson that he would carry with his spirit into many future lifetimes. The Press turned on him. The message was dismissed as a fluke and John’s life was once more in danger.

“But I thought the press loved me,” John sobbed as he wept into a pile of hay.

“John, stop that noise this instant. I will protect you always,” Sherlock said as she admonished John in a stern tone.

John looked up at Sherlock through tear streaked eyes and Sherlock’s heart broke. She was a killer a spider, a predator that sucked the blood from her victims with little sympathy for their struggles. When the east wind blew their brown, broken bodies from her web Sherlock seldom gave them another thought.

John looked up in horror as an innocent insect fought for its life. With quick precision Sherlock wound the creature up in a tight little roll.

“Sherlock, what are you going to do with him?” John asked as the insect buzzed and cried out for help.

Sherlock gave the bug a stern look as she said, “I don’t care if your name is Anderson. I need to eat too.”

John’s bottom lip trembled as he watched Sherlock. “You’re going to eat him?”

Sherlock looked bored. “Well, actually I’m going to suck his blood.”

John cried out. “No, Sherlock please don’t let him go.”

Sherlock looked at John in disbelief and then sighed as she caught another glimpse of those sad blue eyes. With quick another precise move Sherlock unwrapped the bug and released him. “There are you happy now? I am going to go hungry.”

John looked up at Sherlock and smiled. “Thank you, Sherlock.”

Sherlock scowled and then let herself become lost in John’s smile. That smile, those eyes, how could he deny John anything? “I will just have to wait until you’re asleep to trap and eat.”

John’s heart was bursting with happiness. All was right with the world. Then Moriarty appeared one day with the farmer.

“That pig is looking quite big.” Moriarty said as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

The farmer laughed. “Yep, come winter he’ll provide some fine ham and bacon.”

Moriarty slurped back the saliva that filled his mouth. “I can hardly wait.”

Then he and the farmer walked away leaving John terrified and cold. “Sherlock, what are we going to do?”

Sherlock sighed. “Well, just have to find another message so that the fickle press will once more adore you. Mycroft, Mycroft come here.”

Mycroft slinked out from underneath John’s trough. “What do you want now?”

Sherlock flew down from her web and perched on John’s snout. “I need you to fetch me another word.”

Mycroft grimaced. “What do I look like an errand boy? Get it yourself I’m busy.”

“Mycroft, need I remind you that John’s slop is what you crave, without it you will grow so thin that we will be able to see through you,” Sherlock snapped as she once more flew to her web.

Mycroft sighed. “Fine, I’ll be back.”

A few hours later Mycroft returned and Sherlock sifted through the piles of paper until she found what she wanted. “Loyal, loyal,” she whispered aloud and then began to work through the night.

The next morning John sat proudly underneath Sherlock’s web. The word ‘loyal’ woven into her sticky tresses sent the press into another frenzy. John was safe for the time being.


	4. Even when you think I can't see you...

Sherlock had just finished spinning another message in her web for John. The farmer beamed as he read the word aloud. “Humble, we’ve got a special pig. In fact, I think I’ll take him to the fair this year.” All the reporters cheered and John beamed.

The only person not enjoying John’s moment of fame was Moriarty. “If he wins in the competition at the fair the farmer won’t want to butcher him,” he thought in disgust. Then he looked up at Sherlock. “You seem tired,” he whispered aloud. Then Moriarty smiled as he thought to himself, “John, you’re in for a fall. Spiders don’t live that long.”

Sherlock glared over at Moriarty and Moriarty shivered for it seemed as if the spider could read his thoughts.

John did a backflip and then another as Sherlock chuckled at his antics. The reporters had gone and John was radiant with joy. He was going to the fair which meant a step closer to avoiding the butcher’s block.

As soon as the sun set Mycroft yawned and came out from underneath John’s trough. “What’s all the ruckus about?” He snarled with a curl to his lip.

“I’m going to the fair,” John shouted for joy.

Mycroft yawned, “Goody for you.”

Sherlock swung down and landed on John’s nose. “Mycroft, we’ll need you to go along as well.”

Mycroft laughed. “Are you kidding me? Why would I want to be jostled around in a crate with a pig and a spider?”

Sherlock smiled with a sly twist to her mouth. “Do you know what a fair is like?”

Mycroft flicked his tail. “No, and I could care less.”

“Well, I should think it would be right up your ally. There will be food lots of it. Tons of juke food, cakes, candy, popcorn and more.” Sherlock said as she watched Mycroft lick his lips.

“Mustard drippings, bags of gooey caramel, hot dogs, cotton candy cooked all day by the sun?” Mycroft asked as he clapped his paws together.

Sherlock smiled, “Yes and much more.”

Mycroft smiled back and said, “I’m coming when do we leave?”

All of the barnyard animals started talking at once. Only John noticed Sherlock’s slow ascent up the barn wall. Noticing John’s worried expression Sherlock called down to John. “John, you look sad. Today is a day of celebration and remember that even though you can’t see me I can tell when you’re sad.”

John smiled back at Sherlock as he whispered, “Even when I think you’re not looking?”

Sherlock winked a large blue eye at Sherlock as she answered, “Especially then.”

The day of the fair dawned bright and clear. John watched as his crate was prepared and under the advice of the other animals he squealed when he was forced into the small square space. Mycroft swore as he avoided John’s sharp hooves. “Watch it lard bucket or you’ll trample me.”

Once the crate was loaded on the truck John looked around for Sherlock. “Sherlock, are you here?” He whispered.

John had to listen for Sherlock’s voice with care as she whispered, “Yes, John I’m here. Now be a good pig and let me rest.”

John sighed in contentment. “I love you Sherlock.”

“I love you too,” Sherlock answered as she rested her head on her limbs.


End file.
